


Carnival Crash

by michaelWayland



Series: Mentor? More Like High Profile Dad in Disguise [4]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelWayland/pseuds/michaelWayland
Summary: "Everything okay, Tones?" Rhodey emphatically said, a concerned look on his face."Kid's been avoiding me." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Rhodey folded the newspaper and tossed it on the workbench. "Kid?" It took him a while to get what he means, "Oh! You mean that Spider kid? Maybe he's too busy doing teenager stuff."Rhodes had a few calculated words to say to him when he found out that Spiderman is a teenager. Over time, the kid slowly grew on him. No surprise there. The kid possesses a particular talent for getting people hooked.Tony furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean like drugs, alcohol, casual hook ups?" He knew goody eight-shoes Peter is far too pure for any of those, but he sputtered anyway, seemingly more comfortable on talking about himself rather than the fact that the kid is hiding something."I was thinking more like homework scifi movie marathons, and nerd stuff." Rhodey shrugged. "But that's the idea."...Peter was too caught up in his extra academic credit work that he practically forgot about his lab days.





	Carnival Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Story prompt from Layla_159
> 
> "It’s just maybe one where Peter has been really busy lately with school and MJ and life so he doesn’t reach out to Tony as much. That and he feels bad like he’s taking up too much of Tony’s time. So Tony freaks out and asks him why he’s pulling away from him? And they end up hanging out."
> 
> Phew this took me a long time to finish but at least my word count record is broken! Yay.

Tony poured himself some coffee. He always makes sure that the coffee maker inside his lab is always up and running, so his caffeine intake would always be served piping hot and bitter just as he liked it. After pouring some in his mug, he immediately added more water and coffee granules to replace what he took.

He glanced at Rhodey, who's peacefully reading today's newspaper on a medical chair he set up beside one of the work tables where his prosthetic legs are placed for its occasional repair. There's not much to tinker on the limbs, especially since Rhodey has resorted to a more laidback lifestyle that's also lenient to the metallic legs, but Tony likes to keep himself busy. Anything is a welcome distraction, even if it's just a miniscule dent from walking too much.

He always took pride on his craft. Tony always ensures that his work is of top notch quality, especially if he's giving it for the people closest to him.  But deep down, he knew that not even alien invader tech would protect any of them from danger if it decided to show up on their front door. Tony insisted that Rhodey would come over as much as he can even if there isn't literally anything to work on.

One look at the pair of limbs idling on his workbench, and guilt would tug at his stomach. Guilt would force him to go back to the airport in Germany. His anxiety — which is a strong torrent of muddy water that threatened to drown him from the inside out — when he saw Rhodey get trapped inside the suit he tailored for him and is  free-falling from the sky and eventually land with a sickening crunch of metal against earth would gnaw at the places in his body where it hurt the most seeing his best friend plummet to his demise again, forcing him to relive the nightmare all over through erratic heart rates and phantom pains that melted his own solid limbs to the consistency of warm jello.

Tony can't help but think that it's his fault Rhodey ended up like this. The potentially lethal shot that's never aimed towards him came from Vision (who went in a temporary state of existential crisis and harbored guilt and shame that's equivalent to the guilt and shame Tony has stored in his right hand), and Rhodey just happened to get a stroke of bad luck by being in the line of fire, but sometimes at night, Tony can't help but wonder: if he everything-proofed Rhodey's suit, and he is confident he is capable of doing just that either by reinforcing the armor to withstand a nuclear blast or by overloading him with safety protocols ; a parachute that would be deployed even if the suit is offline, an airbag system of sorts that would minimize the impact and therefore the damage in the user's body upon crashing, maybe even a force field toggled by an energy blast in a specific amount of joules the armor can't withstand at a specific distance, Rhodey won't end up like this.

He could do more, but he didn't, and it kept him awake at night in the process.

Tony's, well, Tony — what he lacks in empathy, communication, and expression, he makes up for material things he can provide with a snap of his fingers. He isn't sure if he should blame himself for his materialistic mindset; after all, he is raised by a man whose definition of 'I Love You' is a four or five digit check served on a heavy tray after a meal at the dining table where he isn't bombarded by harsh criticism but is treated as if he's an invisible man, whose sole purpose for existing is to reap as much good publicity as he can for their family and his mother who's torn between her son who's cold from the loneliness and her husband, a cold stone statue warming up the other side of the bed. But he always ends up making sure his love and presence is felt by those close to him by giving them the best.

But his love isn't enough to shield Rhodey from Vision's energy beam, and it is far from enough to keep the guilt seep into Peter's bones after the ferry fiasco. The boy's drunken confession rings deep inside his mind.

If anything, it is more than enough to break him over and over again. He felt his heart drop in between his feet as the unresponding War Machine fell. He felt the red and blue spider suit he confined inside his lab after taking it back reach for the back of the roof of his mouth, relentlessly poking at his palate until he's puking his shame-ridden guts when he found out that Peter prevented his plane from getting hijacked without it. And who could forget about Captain Backstabber, who powdered his arc reactor with the shield he willingly crafted?

Bile creeped up his throat. Tony downed it with a searing gulp of coffee, hissing in pain afterwards as the drink scalded him.

"Coffee?" He offered. Rhodey looked up his papers. "It's way too late for a morning coffee and news routine, don't you think?" But he gestured for him to pour him some, anyway. Tony obliged. He sat down his mug, grabbed another from the pantry and poured Rhodey some. He then plopped a lone sugar cube inside the mug and stirred it with a teaspoon. They never minded each other's preferences for coffee; Tony sometimes likes the kick of sugar, and Rhodey actually appreciates raw bitter coffee.

Rhodey took it with a grateful nod. Tony went back to his workbench, twirled a screwdriver between his fingers and began fiddling with Rhodey's left leg. "Friday, put Happy on the intercom." He said. The AI produced a holographic screen in front of him, its blue glow giving his face a faint illumination. The call connected five seconds later; Happy is slouching on his chair as he busied himself typing something at his computer, but he acknowledged Tony's presence nevertheless, "Yes, boss?" He narrowed his eyes at something on his computer screen.

"Hey, Hap." Tony pulled up a bolt from the leg. "What time are you gonna pick up Peter today?" He masked his concern with indifference, which is his default setting for almost everyone. No, he's definitely not worrying about the kid. Sure, he may have looked into Peter's suit for reports and finds nothing out of the blue save for the occasional bruising, concussion, or torn ligaments, but he has to stop himself from jumping into one of his armors and just go for him, even if he is far from trouble. He definitely didn't stared at his bedroom ceiling at night as he replayed Peter's drunken disclosure, fingers fidgeting nervously on his comforter.

"Yeah, about that," Happy paused his work and looked at his boss through the feed, almost looking apologetic, "He just texted me. Says he's heading to a friend's home to work on a project."

Tony dropped the screwdriver. The metal clang against the workbench's surface. "He's not coming over?" Happy shook his head. He asked incredulously, not believing every word he says. Peter would be dying to work side by side with him any time, and he would've called — or left a voicemail, at least — and say sorry for a thousand times while furiously rambling on why he can't make it. "Did he called?"

"I would've notified you if he did." Happy shrugged. Tony gave a stiff nod, mumbled his thanks and signed off. He took a deep sigh, staring at the space in front of him.

Something is definitely wrong.

Tony is too busy overthinking to consider if it's just his paranoia speaking to him, but Peter's drunken disclose echoed inside his mind once again. It's been two weeks after his little incident on the rooftop of his apartment building; no call, no text, not even a sticky note pasted on Dum-E to address the stint or to even talk about suit upgrades. He returned Peter's suit — even the disaster that's the onesie no matter how badly he wants to dump the thing — by mailing it to him through Happy when Peter excused himself from lab day due to "extra credit he should catch up on."

Part of him thought, maybe the kid is just overbooked. When he thinks of how painfully convenient the school stuff is by plotting themselves days after Peter's 'research', however, he just can't ignore the hunch that something is going on, and Peter being Peter would hide it from him.

"Everything okay, Tones?" Rhodey emphatically said, a concerned look on his face.

"Kid's been avoiding me." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Rhodey folded the newspaper and tossed it on the workbench. "Kid?" It took him a while to get what he means, "Oh! You mean that Spider kid? Maybe he's too busy doing teenager stuff."

Rhodes had a few calculated words to say to him when he found out that Spiderman is a teenager. Over time, the kid slowly grew on him. No surprise there. The kid possesses a particular talent for getting people hooked.

Tony furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean like drugs, alcohol, casual hook ups?" He knew goody eight-shoes Peter is far too pure for any of those, but he sputtered anyway, seemingly more comfortable on talking about himself rather than the fact that the kid is hiding something.

"I was thinking more like homework scifi movie marathons, and nerd stuff." Rhodey shrugged. "But that's the idea."

"Friday?" Tony spared a glance at one of the walls, scratching nervously at his hands. 

"Yes, boss?"

"Initiate Baby Leash protocol." Tony took a huge gulp of his coffee. It was at this moment, he knew, his attachment with Peter is too strong for his own good. 

A single drone modeled after a toy helicopter deploys out of one of the stealth panels laid on the flooring. A portion of the wall opened up, letting afternoon sunlight filter through the small gap where the drone flies out of the lab. Rhodey followed the drone with curious gaze, then raised an eyebrow at Tony gripping the edges of his seat, who is watching the feed from the drone's camera anxiously.

Tony programmed the protocol right after he drove Peter home after treating him to McDonalds. He is aware that he can't be there for the kid at all times, so he formulated the protocol for just that. While the drone isn't exactly a welcoming presence, it does allow Tony to get a glimpse at Peter's life. He can't be physically there, but if he sees another incident as petty as high school bullying, he can at least decide for the best course of action based on what he sees.

During the process of programming, Tony mentally chided himself for even considering it. The protocol is downright creepy and is an invasion of Peter's privacy, but he convinced himself that he's only going to use it for emergency.

This counts for an emergency, right? The kid is avoiding him, and he'd like to know if that Flash kid is bothering him again or if there's something far deeper.

"You're not going to send that drone after Peter, aren't you?" Rhodey quipped, humor lacing his voice.

"Maybe the kid is in trouble." Tony defended, his eyes not leaving the screen. "Maybe he gets bugged by bullies in his school. Or something worse. I don't know."

There was a moment of silence between them as the feed showed the New York skyline, with Tony mentally willing it to go faster before Rhodey's laugh rumbled. It isn't a typical chuckle, it was full blown laughter; Rhodey's chest and shoulders are quaking from laughter, and his laugh transitions from a full blown noise to an airy wheeze of shamelessness and humor, and he clutched at his stomach for full effect.

Tony would've been offended on many counts if it isn't Rhodey, so.he just stared as the man struggled to gather his wits as his body is shaking from laughing so hardly. Rhodey rubbed a finger on his eyes. "Oh god." He wheezed and laughed some more.

Tony divided his attention to the feed which now shows Queens and to his best friend.

"I always knew you'd be quite a dad, Tony." Rhodey chortled. "But to take Helicopter Parenting literally! Ha!" Tony suddenly found his room slippers interesting as Rhodey laughed some more. "I finally get to say this: Tony freaking Stark is a helicopter parent! Jesus, Tones." He suppressed his giggles. "Took you long enough. It rather suits you, though." Rhodey grinned at him. Tony only rolled his eyes.

The feed shows Peter with his chin resting on his hand planted on his desk as a teacher,who seems to be in his forties, spoke in a monotone. Tony has made sure that the drone is equipped with the stealth mist he and Peter formulated, so that people spotting it would brush it off as a trick of the light. The boy looks tired and is bored to tears, and Tony could relate. After all, he has his share of teachers who were better off being babysitter for their astounding ability to make a class drowsy.

"Think I should order some popcorn, Tones?" Rhodey smirked.

"Shut up." Tony playfully quipped.

Thankfully, the class is about to end much to his relief. Tony is fighting the urge to doze off as he listened to the lecture, and he isn't sure if he can last.

The bell rang. The teacher took that as his cue and greeted them goodbye. All the students looked relieved the boring class is finally over. The drone slipped through an open window to tail innocuous Peter, who is heading for his locker and put his books in. Tony leaned forward and braced himself for the worst. His tense shoulders sagged in relief when Peter wasn't shoved inside the lockers or the janitor's closet nor was he tripped to fall on his face.

Guy-in-the-chair Ned appears on frame from across the hallway. Peter stares at his direction and his pace seemed to go faster. The best friends approached each other and did their handshake.

"Zoom in to the both of them." Tony ordered, and the camera obliged. Rhodey snickered.

"How many pieces are we going to work on, today?" Enthusiasm leaks on Peter's tone.

"Three thousand and seven hundred fifty five." Ned beamed, mirroring Peter's excitement. "Dad got it for me this saturday. He says it's an early Christmas gift." 

There was a genuine smile on Peter's face, albeit it's a sad one. It tugged a little too hard on Tony's heartstrings. "That's insane, dude."

"I know."

Tony watched the both of them warily as they headed for the subway babbling about school and Spiderman stuff. Peter looked guilty when Ned mentioned about the internship, and he rambled nervously about the semester's workload. Tony proudly smiled when Peter confirmed that he's going to work on all the given tasks ahead of time so he can make room for the internship and MJ.

"Your kid's quite a nerd, Tones." Rhodey munched on potato chips. As if sensing his bewilderment, Dum-E went beside him and offered him a bowl of his own. Smiling, he took the bowl and set it to his lap. He thanked the robot and gave it a pat on its head, and Dum-E whirred happily and headed back to his duties. 

They eventually reached Leeds' residence. Their building is three blocks away from Peter's. Before the drone could tail them all the way inside, Tony interrupted and had it scout the windows to search for Ned's room instead.

It took the drone a few minutes, but when it finally located Ned's room, it settled itself on the metal railing of somebody's balcony at the apartment building facing the boy's room. Ned pulled up a large Lego set underneath his bed and Peter gawked. They sat down on the floor and emptied the contents of the package. In a few seconds, they are silently fiddling with the pieces in comfortable silence.

"Friday," There was a fond smile on Tony's lips, "Switch the feed off. Let me know if the drone sees Peter on any trouble."

"Sure thing, boss." And the hologram faded. Tony settled down on working with Rhodey's legs. "Show's over, Rhodes." He smirked when the man complained half-heartedly.

...

"Boss?" Tony ignored his AI and kept on working on the repairs, which are almost done. "I've taken initiative to order dinner for you."

"Good girl." Tony commented, confident that Friday has ordered them something good — the AI saw through his pattern of ordering take out.

He stood up and tossed his equipment to their respective drawers. "Hope your ass is killing you for sitting on that chair for too long." Tony joked as he approached Rhodey — who rolled his eyes at the comment — and carried a leg on his arms like a Christmas bundle. He knelt down and attached the leg back to its owner. The mechanism whirred back to life when he attached them, an indication that the thing is functional.

Rhodey wiggled his metallic toes. They responded accordingly, earning a nod from the two of them. "Friday, ETA of the take outs?"

"Approximately thirteen minutes."

Tony stared at Rhodey, "Think you can hold on for thirteen more minutes for dinner?" He appreciates the company he could get. His lab does rather feel lonely at times, and with his creeping paranoia regarding the kid's welfare he'd appreciate anybody whose presence will ground him to the present. .

"Sure." Rhodey said, like it's no bother to him. Tony was thankful for that. "I've been sitting my ass here for a long time. I think I earned dinner for that." He added with a chuckle.

Tony wasn't pleased when the food arrived.

Friday may have conveniently ordered Thai food on his behalf. He is scowling when he dealt with the jittery delivery man. He waved him off to keep the change without another word and headed inside.

Deep down, he knows he can't blame Friday. He created her, after all. Well, that and today is supposed to be Peter's lab day, and Tony might have resorted to ordering Thai before the kid arrives from patrol after Peter babbled about this restaurant where he and his attractive aunt are getting dinner, sometimes with extra on the house food items from one of the waiters.

"You mind Thai, Rhodes?" Tony said as he laid down the take out boxes on his work bench. "Nah." He said as he grabbed one, took a seat, and began eating.

They ate the food in silence. Rhodey may have noticed that Tony is scowling at his food, angrily pouncing at the diced meat with his fork. "Seems like somebody hates Thai." He playfully quipped. Tony took his time before responding, "I don't hate Thai." silently.

"You're missing the kid?" Rhodey huffed, amused. Sure is a refreshing sight from Tony. He can't help but notice that his friend orders Thai in particular when Spiderman is around. It wasn't a hard deduction to make.

He took Tony's silence as a yes. He was never vocal about his feelings, and Rhodey can understand that.

"There's a carnival fair at Long Island." Rhodey mused, recalling an online ad he saw for it some time. "It opens at Saturday, I think."

Tony halted on his meal. Eyebrows raised, and with gleaming eyes, he looked up to his ceiling. "Friday, can you confirm that?"

It's only a matter of seconds before Friday affirmed it, almost sounding enthusiastic. "Yes, boss. The fair starts at six p.m"

"Clear my schedule for Saturday, then."

...

The reason Peter is sitting on detention when he should be in his history class is a mildly cruel irony; he pulled an all nighter just so he can finish a five-page single spaced essay for the aforementioned class due today, which clocked him barely three hours of sleep and resulted to him dozing off on Miss Connelly's calculus class. His teacher had been calling his attention for quite some time, apparently, and when she realized his mind is floating elsewhere, she sent him to detention. No fucks given. Everyone in his class was snickering at him as he went out of the room in a daze.

"So...you've got detention..." Captain America repeated for the hundredth time. Peter groaned and laid his head on the table. The boredom inside the detention room is agonizing. MJ is in her class, so he won't be focusing on being a wacky model for her wacky doodles but that means he'll have to listen to Captain America lecturing him (and three more students seated far away from him) like a broken record, and he's fairy confident he already memorized the particular speech by heart and hearing it for the fifth time makes him wanna rip his hair out of his scalp. Peter also has to tap his pen rhythmitically on the desk to ground himself and to ensure that he's not going to die of boredom. The staff assigned to watch over them isn't helping matters; it's as if he's watching him slowly lose his sanity. He'd been itching to grab his phone from the man's desk. At least his social media accounts would keep him entertained.

Peter mentally smacked himself for not bringing the worksheets he has to work on — which is due in two, three weeks — today. It's funny when he thinks about it; he has the foresight to do as much academic stuff so he can have as much free time for himself, yet he can't prepare for worst case scenarios like this. He'd be thankful to answer even a crossword puzzle right now.

He left school without so much as a word to his peers. Peter has three worksheets to work on before going to patrol. Normal teenagers would be getting wasted on a Friday night, but Peter is far from normal even before the spider bite. He just loves studying. He practically begged his teachers to give him more workload for extra credit and merit, which garnered him odd looks. The foresight is necessary, he repeatedly told himself. If he needs to get excused from class in favor of a 'mission' handed to him by Mr. Stark, he'll be reassured that he still have A's to go back to.

Oh...

Peter lost track of time. He hasn't talked to Mr. Stark since...since he got wasted on their rooftop. Spiderman's been grounded for a week because of that, but Mr. Stark didn't threw him under the bus for Aunt May, which he is thankful for. When he thought of that night, he can't help but be embarrassed. He had to be tucked into bed by Mr. Stark of all people — which is a very busy man — and he is pretty sure he has wasted his mentor's time. The events from that night came to him in bits and pieces — the taste of the alcohol he'd rather not taste again, the drunken slurs, the words exchanged between the two of them. Sometimes as an epiphany while taking a shower, sometimes a welcoming commercial break from his nightmares which actually helped him stay asleep, even if he wakes up feeling tired, exhaustion seeping from his bones from having to relive the bad stuff all over again.

Yes, that must be the reason why he's doing all the excess schoolwork to keep him occupied. He'd rather think of the complicated equations and formulas than the disappointment from Mr. Stark he has rightfully earned.

His sleep was a rocky one, no surprise there. To his frustration, however, there was no Mr. Stark commercial break, hence why he can feel the dust clog his throat, suffocating him as the weight on his back crushed him.

Peter gasped as he bolted up. He caught his breath, but he had to squeeze the life out of his mattress to tether himself on the reality. He isn't in the warehouse, he's just on his bunk. It was four a.m, and Aunt May is sleeping soundly in her room. Peter chewed on his trembling lip as he turned the lights on and headed for his desk. He pulled out a chemistry worksheet and furiously began working on it until morning light flooded into his room through his window.

Peter took that as his cue to go out to the kitchen. He didn't bothered rechecking his work; his stomach is pissed at him again, and the homework can wait until later. He put on a pair of sweatpants and went out of his room with a yawn. "Aunt May, what's for breakfast?" He sleepily asked, rubbing the drowsiness off his eyes. His eyesight went clearer when he saw someone sitting on one of the chairs at the dining area — only for his eyes to pop out of their sockets and his jaw to drop when he realized that it's Mr. Stark, in blue denim and a black blazer over a white shirt, drinking coffee while Aunt May is frying some eggs.

Mr. Stark has turned towards him when he saw him at the corner of his eyes. "Morning, kid." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Mi-mister Stark." Peter yelped. He subconsciously ran his hands on his wrinkly shirt as he stood to collect himself. "What're you — what are you, um, doing here?" He scratched his unruly bed head.

"Stark decided to pick you up himself." Aunt May filled in, gesturing for him to take a seat. "For the internship, which he swears is an actual internship work at his office. He's definitely not taking you to Germany or anywhere else." She pointedly glared at Mr. Stark while setting the plate of burnt sunny side ups on the table. Aunt May ruffled his tangled hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. Peter felt himself flush but didn't backed out.

When Aunt May learned about him being Spiderman, he had to spill. Unfortunately, that meant he also told her about Germany. Aunt May yelled at Mr. Stark over the phone, and Peter is certain their neighbours can hear her give the billionaire an earful.

Peter looked down on the place mat laid in front of him, taking the intricate lace patterns in full focus. "Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." He began, "But I don't think I —"

"Nuh-uh." Mr. Stark cut him off. "Me first. You have to have to go to the office today. The HR department has started taking notice of your extended leave." He winked at Peter when Aunt May isn't looking.

Peter didn't informed his aunt that his actual Stark Internship is on hiatus. She'll ask what is going on, and he feels he can't answer her truthfully, which is what she deserves.

Peter debated whether he should excuse himself and try to cook up a barely believable lie. It seems that Mr. Stark isn't gonna take no for an answer, though. He thought of his schoolwork. They can be done tomorrow. Besides, he might need to do this to get him off his back. God knows Mr. Stark has better things to do than dealing with teenage misery.

"O-oh." Peter nervously chuckled. "Okay, um. Let me go shower first." He bowed his head, refusing to meet his stern gaze as he stood up and headed for the bathroom. He ran a cold shower to jolt his sleepy nerves awake, and he practically had to fight himself when the cold water peppered his bare body to prevent himself from slipping away from reality again and return to that dreadful lake.

Peter threw a hoodie over his body without wearing a shirt underneath. He didn't ditched the sweatpants, and he replaced his room slippers with one of his battered sneakers. He ran a comb on his hair. He unconsciously patted the dark circles under his eyes, pissed at how it ruins his semi-presentable look, but he went back to the dining room for breakfast nevertheless.

After stuffing himself up with Aunt May's far from delicious breakfast, Mr. Stark has ordered him to go wait in the car. Locating Mr. Stark's car is an easy task; his sleek black Audi sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the other generic cars parallel parked on this corner of the street. Pedestrians are ogling the fancy car as they walked by, and Peter suddenly felt more conscious of every little thing he has, which probably costs as much as a square inch of leather in the car's plush seats. He was actually surprised when he saw that Happy isn't waiting for him in the driver's seat. He fiddled with his own fingers as he waited for his mentor to settle things with his aunt. His mentor, who happens to be Tony Stark himself, part time Avenger, part time Ironman, full time genius. While he feels humbled to drive with Mr. Stark himself, he can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve the attention. He's just an intern — for lack of better word — after all.

Mr. Stark approached him after awhile. He claimed the driver's seat for himself and gestured for Peter to take the shotgun. He is too perplexed to say anything, so he obeyed.

The drive to the compound is atrocious, no surprise there. Mr. Stark had to occasionally let out a string of colorful words every time he has to share the road with somebody who deserves to retake the driving test. He spared a glance at Peter, who is too occupied with his fingers when they got stuck in traffic. "So, how's school?"

Peter nervously chuckled. "Fine. School's...um...well, being school."

"Annoying and counterproductive?" Mr. Stark smirked.

"Yeah." Peter coyly nodded.

Mr. Stark refocused on the road when the traffic began easing up. They are coasting safely, and Peter watched the buildings drift past by. "How are things between you and MJ?" Mr. Stark asked out of the blue.

Peter felt his blood warm his cheeks up a little bit. "Um, we're good. Yeah." He bit his lip to prevent himself from giggling.

"So far so good?"

Peter hummed affirmatively.

Mr. Stark took a left turn. "How'd the fifth date go?" He asked with a grin. Peter recalled the awkward sex talk they had a couple weeks back and coughed, earning him a chuckle from his mentor. "We-we- we haven't, ya know, even talked about our fifth date and, um, what stuff are we gonna do." Peter fumbled with wild hand gestures.

"You can do each other." Mr. Stark shrugged like he's talking about getting coffee at a Starbucks.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter found himself whining. Despite that, he saw himself smiling from ear to ear at the side mirror, and the weight he's been carrying — the extra school workload, the sleepless nights, the self depreciation after his little stunt, the duties of being Spiderman — get off his back, if only for a while.

Mr. Stark's laugh filled the space inside the car as he maneuvered his car, weaving past the vehicles fluidly. "Just remember to be safe and all that jazz. I thought we already established that we're on a first name basis, Peter." He paused before addressing him by his name for emphasis.

"Old habits, Mister — err — um, Tony." He corrected when Tony glared at him through the rearview mirror, although his mentor's name came an octave higher.

Tony huffed, "Better get yourself used to it, kid."

The two of them headed straight for the lab. Peter admitted to himself that he missed everything, from Friday's polite greeting to the lab's ambience. He missed the faint whiff of motor oil he can catch, and the soft muted glow of the florescent lights above him. It's only been two weeks, but it felt like years. It gnawed at Peter's conscience that he missed something like this.

They tinkered with their respective suits in a comfortable silence. Peter is currently modifying the built in glider at the spider legs of the Iron Spider suit by increasing the amount of web fluid each leg carries when Tony decided to break the ice once more. "Have you been sleeping well, Peter?" The concern in his tone shocked Peter to his wits. He stared at Tony, too tense for his own good as he worked on the wirings of his armor.

"I sleep better." Peter shrugged. No harm in telling the truth, especially since his eye bags speak for themselves.

Tony thought better of it and decided not to press on. "So, about your extended leave." It was now Tony's turn to avoid his gaze. "Care to tell me what is going on? Is Flash bothering you again?" He said as he twisted some wires with a pair of pliers carefully.

"No, no." Peter stuttered. "Flash, he uh, left me alone mostly —"

"Mostly?" Tony echoed, his eyebrows furrowed. Peter may have noticed that his grip on the wire and the pliers were stronger. 

"He's just name calling." Peter defended. "Nothing I can't handle. Nothing I hadn't handled before." He scratched his head. He didn't answered the first question. "Um, I'm sorry." Peter started rambling. "For not coming over more often. It's just that, um, the school, yeah. I asked my teachers to give me more worksheets in favor of extra credit." He disclosed. There's just no point in lying — he owed Tony that much. "Besides, the extra homework helps in, you know, keeping my mind off...things, especially when I can't sleep. At least it's what keeps me awake at night and it helps me sleep fast so I won't disappoint you again by resorting to alcohol."

Tony finally managed to meet his gaze. "I believe you." Peter's shoulders sagged in relief. Tony returned to his task. "It wouldn't hurt to call, you know." He chuckled, but Peter had to do a double take. He swore that Mr. Stark sounded a bit hurt. He can't be though, right? He's just a waste of time.

Tony composed himself. "But I'm not disappointed at you relying on alcohol, no." Tony pursed his lips. "I'm angry, I'm dazed, I'm confused as to why you'd rather rely on that than, say, other far more safe options that wouldn't give your aunt a heart attack, like — I don't know, talking about it?"

Peter remained silent, his guilt consuming what was left of him.

"I mean," Tony continued, "I know the feeling. I can empathize. Alcohol lowers your inhibitions. It sends your mind into a fuzzy overdrive, but it also numbs you so that you won't feel what your mind wants you to feel. And because I know better, I'm advising against it."

"I'm sorry." Peter said in a small voice. That seems to be the only thing he's capable of saying.

"You did nothing wrong, kid." Tony held his gaze, "I'm not the best listener out there, but if you want to talk about it, then I'm all ears."

Their lunch was consisted of more take outs. They both ate in silence, and Tony isn't sure if he really wants the kid to remain silent.

He pried the talkative Peter out right after lunch. Tony started with small talks about his suit. A few well-worded questions about his insights and ideas, and Peter was babbling in no time. Not about personal stuff, but at least he got the kid to talk. A lot.

They spent the whole afternoon fumbling with their armory while keeping the geeky banter out.  _I really don't know what to mix with my web formula to make it hardee without losing its quality, Mr. Stark._ Peter would say as he tossed a screwdriver to him, who would catch it mid-air.  _Have you ever thought of recreating a lightsaber, Mr. Stark?_ Tony would glare at the kid and he would correct himself sheepishly, "Sorry. Tony...?"

Time passed by too fast for his own lliking "Boss," Friday interrupted some time while him and Peter are in the middle of discussing ways to optimize stealth mode. "I would suggest you leave for your Long Island schedule now. The traffic on the route you intend to take is congested."

Peter took the hint. He wiped his grimy hands on his sweatpants and stood up. "Guess it's time for me to go, Mr. Stark."

"Tony." He corrected. Peter nodded profusely. "And no, you're not going anywhere. You're coming with me. Think of it as actual intern work." Tony mused.

"Okay...?" Peter tilted his head to the side. "What's in Long Island, Mr. Stark?"

Tony smiled thoughtfully, "You'll see when we get there, kiddo. Wait for me here. I'm gonna go take a shower."

They were both exhausted before even arriving to their destination.

Peter is napping at the shotgun seat, his hood drawn to his face so that his gaping mouth is the only visible thing. His soft snores managed to calm his fraying nerves down. There was a lot of road rage since it's rush hour, and Tony has bombarded the car with his cussing enough that he feels like May would wash his mouth with laundry soap and bleach. Despite the cussing and the angry honks as well as hard swerves, Peter managed to stay asleep.

When they finally arrived, the colorful circus lights are on, and there's quite a handful of the local media covering the event. Tony mentally cussed. Bringing his cherry red Audi suddenly didn't seemed like a good idea.He ditched the slacks and blazers in favor of a vintage AC/DC concert shirt and exhausted denim in an effort to blend in, but he isn't sure if the media would buy Tony Stark in pedestrian clothes on a circus carnival in Long Island with a kid he'll claim as his intern.

He can handle all of them, no problem. But Peter probably can't. He's way too modest for the hounding of the media.

Ah, well. Pepper can always cook something up.

Tony took his time to find the perfect parking spot. In the end, he settled for a spot three rows away from the entrance and nestled the car in between two middle class ones. He opened the glove compartment and fished out his Ray Bans. Tony settled for the blue tinted aviators.

"Kid?" He grabbed the boy's shoulder and shook him lightly. "Wake up, we're here."

Peter groaned. He stifled a yawn as he processed his surroundings. His vision cleared when he noticed the lights and turned to Mr. Stark. "Are you having a meeting with the ringleader or something? You never told me you're making circus stuff now."

Tony chuckled and ruffled his tangled curls. "We didn't come here for a corporate meeting. We're here to see the ringleader cut people in half."

Peter's gaze widened a fraction. "B-but I thought —"

"Oh, you're here as an intern." Tony mused. "Think of this as a team building activity." With just the two of them, which makes it a pair. Oh, and not to mention he brought an intern of all employees with him. Tony mentally laughed at himself for his not so smooth lie.

Peter's more than just an intern, though.

Tony tossed the velvet case on his lap. Peter blinked at it, then stared at Tony in confusion. "You might want to wear those." He jerked his chin to the case sitting at his lap. Peter took it with careful hands and opened it cautiously. Tony could swear Peter's eyes would pop themselves out of his sockets when he saw what's inside. "There's lights everywhere." Tony explained. He wouldn't want the kid to freak out about the paparazzi. "That should help with your sight, provided your eyes decided to overload themselves. Plus it goes with your hoodie."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." Peter politely said. He wore the red aviators with a coy smile and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He adjusted it when he saw that it's a bit crooked and grinned at Tony, who reflected it with a smile. "Let's get moving, then."

Peter has a vague memory of going to a carnival once with his parents when he was like, five. Bright lights flooded his vision back then, and then there was the rocking from the rides he rode. He remembered laughing at pretty much everything so hard it hurts.

When his parents died, and he moved back to his Uncle Ben, he never bothered stepping into the grounds of a carnival again. They're busy keeping a roof over their heads while sustaining their modest lifestyle, and Peter understands that. He didn't wanted to be a bother, plus his uncle and aunt is pampering him with lots of books and movies, which he genuinely enjoyed.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked as he looked around the booths, "Don't you think I'm a bit too old to be in the circus?"

Tony made a split-second decision. "Yes. Yes I do."

Peter caught the scent of corndogs being fried. His head eyed the booth where the scent wafts from, and his stomach seems to agree that it smells delicious. His hand flew to his torso reflexively.

Tony smirked at him, and Peter suddenly wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Somebody's hungry."

"No, Mr. Stark" he waved his hands. "I'm fine." His stomach growled at him.

"Your stomach begs to differ." Tony laid a hand on his shoulder and urged him to walk with him towards the booth. "Two corndogs, please." Tony clasped his hands as he placed his order to the staff manning the booth, who narrowed his eyes at him. Tony held on to his painful smile. The young man shrugged it off and proceeded to process their orders.

"Thanks." Tony handed him twenty dollars and took his change back. He'd insist the boy keep the change for himself for not sputtering in his spot and yelping his name out loud for everyone to hear, but he has to keep a low profile to blend in. He handed a corndog to Peter, who mumbled his thanks and looked down at the dirt as he munched on the food.

"What do you have in mind, Peter?" Tony dumped the wrapper in a trashcan as he looked around.

"Um, I don't know, Mr. Star — erm, Tony." He caught himself when Tony cleared his throat upon picking that up. "It's been a while since I've been in a carnival."

"I've never been to one." It was true. He never bothered asking his mom to take him because he'd rather have her deal with his dad so he won't scream his ear off as much. Peter gawked at his mentor. It was surprising, to be honest. Tony Stark, who has everything material wise, has never been to a carnival even as a kid. "Not before today, at least." Tony stared at a shooting booth. An idea popped into his head when he glanced at the prizes. "Tell you what?" He turned to Peter. "How about we look around separately? Then we decide where to go afterwards. Meet me here after fifteen minutes." Peter nodded at him with starry eyes. He gestured for him to go, and he did, pacing around as he looked at the booths, fascinated.

When he's sure that Peter can't see him from his peripheral vision, Tony pulled out an earpiece from his jean pocket and plugged it to his right ear. The gadget went online as soon as it was put. "Friday?" He tested.

"Yes, boss?" The AI dutifully quipped.

"Think you can teach me how to shoot stuff with precision?" He smirked to himself as he headed for the booth.

Peter couldn't get his eyes off the Ironman plushie at a booth dedicated to superhero merchandise. There's a novelty plastic bow that resembles Hawkeye's, as well as a Thor's hammer pillow. He doesn't think Mr. Stark would appreciate a life size Hulk stuffed toy, but the small plushie can surely find itself at home inside his cars. The sign says three chances to win anything using the darts costs five dollars. Peter checked his wallet, and jumped in joy when he saw two five dollar bills hanging around.

He laid a bill to the counter with a grin. The fat man paid him no particular attention and handed him three darts before returning to his sudoku. Peter twirled a dart between his fingers and stared at the bullseye settled on top of the plushie. His aim has vastly improved, thanks to his constant activities as Spiderman. Peter took a deep breath, and with a snide smirk, he aimed, and homed the dart to its target with a faint whoosh. The impact upon landing on the cork board made the dart quiver.

Peter grinned at the staff, who stared at his clean shot and shrugged. He stood up, plucked the plushie from its hook and handed it to Peter with a fake grin. "Good aim." He dryly said.

Peter smiled cheekily at the plushie, squishing its softness with his hands. He hugged it to his chest as he ran his gaze towards the other stuff. He still has two darts, and he decided to give Ned and MJ something when he gets back.

Peter roamed around some more, his arms snuggling the Ironman plushie sandwiched between two Spiderman ones to his chest. He tried to ignore the kids walking hand in hand with their parents, but the task is impossible. Every time he lays his eyes on them, he felt something tug at his stomach, the sight like hot specks of volcanic ash peppering his eyes and skin. He's being unfair to Aunt May if he gets to be jealous now.

But he can't help it.

Biting his lip, he looked down towards the ground and returned back to the spot where he's supposed to meet up with Mr. Stark. He still has two minutes left, but it seems he just can't stand being alone for long.

Tony found him first. He grinned when he saw Peter, but it faltered when he noticed how down the boy is. He stares at his shoes, and his shoulders are slumped. He's carrying plushies with him. Tony jogged to meet the kid. "Kiddo, what's wrong?"

Peter forced a smile and shook his head slowly, doing his best to meet his mentor's gaze. "I'm fine, Mr. Stark."

Lie.

Peter threw a quick glance to the two enormous stuffed bears he's carrying on each arm. "Those are for Pepper and Mr. Rhodey?" He chimed in before Tony can say anything about his lie.

Tony paused when the kid cut him off.  He handled the pale pink one up, "This is for Pepper." He jerked his chin towards the brown one. "This one's for you. Rhodey's outgrown the stuff toy thing, and before you can claim you're too old for this, I'd point out that you're fifteen nearing sixteen. You can't even get a driver's license, which means you're still a kid."

Peter hugged the plushies to his chest tightly. Something uncomfortably warm blossomed inside his chest, threatening to burst out of his body. He blinked his watery eyes as he steadied his trembling body.

He owned only one teddy bear in his whole life, and that is from his dad who won it on a water balloon arcade game. The bear was stashed inside one of the boxes hidden in his attic.

"You don't like it?" Tony softly asked him. Peter only realized it then that he's crying silently in front of his mentor in public. Heat rose on his cheeks. Peter raised his glasses and dabs his sleeve on his eyes. "I love it, Mr. Stark." He sniffled. "I'm sorry I overreacted, but thank you."

Tony contemplated whether he should do any physical contact to calm the kid down. He ended up standing there awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet. "Figured you'd love it."

Peter stared at the plushie in his arm. It was too small compared to what Mr. Stark has given him. "Um, I'm sorry." He stammered out. "I only got you a small one. Shit. Uh, yeah."

"That toy's size doesn't bother me, Pete." Tony assured, his small smile returning. "I look cute. I'd like to see my cute self inside the car while driving."

Peter took the Ironman plushie and handed it to him like an offering. "You want it?"

Tony roller his eyes, amusement gleaming. "Of course, I want it. I told you, I look cute in that. Plus you got it for me." Tony took the plushie with his hand and regarded it with a fond look. He then handed the giant stuffed bear to Peter, who hesitantly took it. He gave it a hug, then he buried his face on the top of its head. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Tony smirked. He reached out to ruffle his hair awkwardly. "No problem, kiddo. Shall we go watch people get cut in half?"

By watch, Tony meant being commentators seated smugly near the exit door of the circus tent with Peter, who'd listen attentively before occasionally throwing his jabs."He's way more predictable than my gym coach." Peter muttered, eyes narrowing at the ringleader and his stripey get up, "and that is saying a lot. If Captain America would flash himself on the screen and talk about performing stunts with adult supervision, I'm gonna lose it Mr. Stark."

"I don't think Cap would talk about stuff like that."

"His PSAs say otherwise."

"His what?" Tony echoed in disbelief. He gripped the armrests of his seat to hold the laughter in.

Peter looks mortified when he turned towards him. "You haven't seen Captain's PSAs?"

Tony shrugged. Peter gasped out in exagerration. No fucking way. His eyes bugged out, and he clasped a hand on his mouth as he turned back to the show. "Sorry not sorry." He cheekily said, which earned him a delighted wheeze from Tony.

The ringleader took a water break. Lanky men and women clad in sequined tops and leotards that hugged their bodies and sheer skin-tight metallic pants performed stunt routines in loud music that has too much trumpets on the instrumentals as a commercial break of sorts. The two of them covered each other's eyes with their hands simultaneously the moment the spotlight hits a voluptuous woman in a glittery onesie. When they realized what they've done, they stared at each other and laughed at their seats like fools, which earned them glares from the patrons seated near them.

For the show's encore, the ringleader introduced a magician clad in a purple waistcoat and neon green baggy pants. Every time the magician shows a new trick, Peter and Tony would discuss the possible scientific explanations involved in the trick. They'd talk about chemical reactions, optical illusions, even nifty pranking tricks.

One of the bikers — or so Peter assumed they were bikers since they were clad in leather and they got studs on their ears  — a few seats away from them has overheard them. "Nerds." He coughed out. Him and his friends laughed, and they were immediately shushed by a mother sitting in front of them. Tony stared at them, and opted to just roll his eyes and returned his focus back to the show.

The two of them looked bored after the cut a lady in half trick was done, but they politely clapped nonetheless. Tony dragged Peter out of the circus tent, and the kid is more than happy to follow suit. "Think we should take a picture here outside the tent?" Tony pulled out his StarkPhone and pulled up the front camera. It was already dark, but the warm light emanating from the tent made up for the lack of it. Tony held the phone up, and they both flashed a peace sign, with Peter pouting his lips like a duck.

"Didn't know you could take selfies, Mis — err — Tony." Peter giggled when he caught himself.

"Kid, if I can invent a new element, I can take a selfie." Tony punched his arm playfully for the comment. "I'm not that old." Tony caught a glimpse of a fire eater. He dragged the kid there and asked him to pose beside him. "Your guy in the chair and your MJ would want to see you chill." He reasoned out. Peter blushed upon mentioning MJ but he stood beside the fire eater anyway. His wacky faces made up for his awkward stance.

They went past the carousel. The size of the plastic horses indicate that adults can take a ride, and Tony took the opportunity to get back at Peter's comment about his age. "Kiddo, look. Would you like to ride a pony?"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter whined.

"C'mon your hot aunt would like to see you straddling a horse." Tony frowned and took a double take. "That sounds inappropriate, but you get the idea."

"Gross, Mr. Stark." Peter somehow managed to combine a smile and a grimace, but he headed for the line anyways. When it was his turn to take a hitch, Peter handed his phone to Tony, who declined and insisted he take the photos on his phone. "I'll send them to you." He promised.

Peter clung to the pole skewering the plastic horse underneath him and gave the ugliest faces to the camera. He pouted, he crossed his eyes, he sucked his cheeks in, every facial distortion he could think of is caught on cam. He sighed as he allowed himself to savor the feeling of being rocked up and down like a child again. The lightheadedness he felt during the process was satisfying to him. Peter didn't want to leave his horse when his time's up, but Tony is waiting for him. He glanced at the carousel over his shoulder as the two of them walked away, and he felt a knot inside his chest loosen up.

Tony bought them more corndogs for them to munch on while roaming around. It was all they could eat, for their hands are literally full with the stuffed toys they have. Their feet lead them to the towering Ferris Wheel. He bought tickets to the ride and they both headed for the long queue line.

"Last chance to bail, kiddo." He teased as his gaze traced the ride.

"I'll be fine, Mr. Stark." Peter gulped. He does not want to admit it but he's terrified of heights. It didn't stemmed from any trauma of sorts — he just is. He recalled scaling the Washington monument to save his Decathlon team  in DC, and he can still feel his stomach plummet whenever he recalls the sheer height. Of course, he sucked it up. Spiderman isn't afraid of heights, but tonight he's just Peter. Doe eyed, nerdy, loser Peter Parker who gets his ass shoved inside lockers. Tony gave him a few strong pats on his back, and he felt the childlish fear pop out of his skin in small amounts.

Peter hugged his teddy to his chest when it was their turn, and the staff proceeded to secure them to their seats. "Try not to look down, okay?" Peter earnestly nodded. He took a few deep breaths as the wheel lifted them off slowly.

Peter took the advice to his heart, and as they were going up, his breathing pattern eased up, and he found himself staring at the landscape laid out for him. When the circus and city lights left his peripheral vision, he made no effort in trying to avert his gaze downwards to digest more and stared at the starry skies above him. His eyes trailed the clouds moving slowly, and he sighed in relief. Tony took note of this and gave him a slight nudge forward. Peter yelped and closed his eyes reflexively, and Tony laughed at him. "Not cool, Mr. Stark." He whimpered.

"You've got to admit you enjoyed the view, though." Tony looked around the vast space. "When you get past your fears, you can learn to appreciate beautiful little things like this lingering behind them."

"Yes." Peter affirmed.

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, you enjoy the view or yes you agree, Mr. Parker?"

"Both counts."

"Ten points for Parker." Tony pantomimes hitting a bell with his hand. Peter could only laugh at his mentor's antics, which helped on him loosening his nerves.

Peter didn't even realized that the ride is over until the staff tended to their buckles again. He almost wanted to ask for more. Almost.

They halted in their tracks when Tony pulled out his phone and read a text message. As he read it, however. Peter swears he saw the glimmer in his eyes die a little, his face slowly morph back to his default bitch face, and his shoulders sagging to match. "Hot May texted." He smiled sadly. "She may have reminded me of your bed time, which is an hour from now."

Peter deflated, the happy air coming out of him in a pitchy "aww" as he empathize with his mentor. The night is younger than him, but he was too tired to argue or to stall time. His weary bones are screaming at him to go to bed, and maybe the exhaustion helped him on not freaking out at the idea of going to sleep.

...

Tony had meant to go to a drive thru to grab dinner for the starving kid snoring on the passenger seat, but from how open his mouth is, and how drool started dribbling down his chin, he decided against it and opted to wake the kid when they arrive.

The traffic seems to favor him, though. He would've been recklessly wove his way out of the traffic, but there's the kid to consider. He'd appreciate it if he gets to spend as much time with the kid as he can, since he'd see him again in a week.

They got stuck in a traffic jam. Tony was tapping patterns on the  steering wheel when Peter laid his sleepy head on his shoulder. Tony tensed. Gulping, he took a look at the undisturbed boy sleeping soundly on the shotgun seat, the giant teddy bear he got for him cradled on his chest. Tony glued his eyes on the road ahead. He does not want to get his hopes up. The boy's late uncle is too good of a man to replicate.

"Kid?" He whispered softly, bouncing his shoulder to slowly wake Peter. "We're here."

Peter groggily opened his eyes, and a new wave of exhaustion washed over him. He flinched away when he realized that he fell asleep on Mr. Stark's shoulder. His hand wiped the drool on the sides of his mouth, and he stared at his mentor in horror,"Oh my god, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry —"

Tony managed a weak laugh. "Don't get yourself worked up. You're not the first person to sleep on my shoulder."

Lie. Peter is definitely the only kid who did that, and will be the only kid allowed to do so. If Howard was a better father, Tony would've hugged him, at least. The kid needs somebody to hold on to aside from his aunt, and Tony is willing to play the part.

And if the idea didn't terrified him.

"Go inside. Your aunt is gonna give you a whooping." He reached out and unlocked the door for him. Peter grabbed his souvenirs and stumbled outside. "Um, thanks for the ride, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome." Tony smugly said. Peter took that as his cue and headed for the door with a cheeky smile.

"Kid!" Tony mentally cussed himself. This is one of those moments where he'd like a cat to jump out of nowhere and snatch his tongue. Peter faced him, a few feet away from the door.

"The HR would like to see you report next week regarding your internship." He sighed in relief when the lie came out of nowhere so smoothly.

"Yes, of course." Peter scratched his head. "I will, Mr. Stark."

Peter was practically running for their apartment when he got inside. When he got to his door, he immediately went in. Aunt May is curled on the couch, watching TV while making herself some sandwich. She glanced at his nephew, bone weary but still managed to be a nervous bundle of energy. "Nice shades." She complimented. Peter dropped the stuffed toys he's been holding and his hands grabbed the familiar red aviators. "Shit." He breathed.

Before he can excuse himself to sprint back downstairs to return the glasses, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Mr. Stark has texted him.

_I won't even miss the red aviators since i've got a few more hanging around my closet so just go to bed and don't even think about returning it._

"What's wrong?" Aunt May frowned at him.

"Nothing!" Peter yelped. Aunt May doesn't buy it. He glanced at the loaf of bread as well as the jar of peanut butter on the coffee table. "Um, can I have a sandwich?"

Aunt May stared at him incredulously. She patted the empty space beside her as she retrieved loaves of bread and proceeded to spread a thick amount of peanut butter. Peter obediently sat beside her. She handed him the bread and carded his curls. "Of course you can have a sandwich. You're my baby." She planted a haste kiss on his forehead. Aunt May cringed afterwards, though. "But you sure smell like a grown man. Finish your sandwich and go take a shower."


End file.
